


What you kill.

by perniciousanarchy



Series: With Forked Tongues Selling Faux Sermons [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Demon Priests, Demons, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Original Fiction, Original Universe, Other, Pinewick, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousanarchy/pseuds/perniciousanarchy
Summary: I'll tell you a story, before it tells itself.
Relationships: Benjamin/Farron Heights
Series: With Forked Tongues Selling Faux Sermons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134455
Kudos: 2





	What you kill.

The atmosphere in the chapel was different that day.

It had always been baffling to Farron, how a church inhabited by an unholy creature could feel anything but menacing- and yet, Benjamin’s cathedral was never anything short of welcoming. The wooden floorboards that were so old they creaked in places remained homey and familiar, rather than run-down and ominous in the way they should have been. The sunlight that normally streamed in through the tall windows bathed the oak interior in a warm golden glow, putting all who entered at ease. On the far left wall, next to an old and well-used bulletin board, was a messy array of framed photographs of the church’s various youth groups throughout the years, the children depicted within them absolutely beaming.

There wasn’t an ounce of ill-will within the building- and there never had been, from the second Farron had stepped through its heavy wooden doors. Despite his status as an outsider to the rest of the small community, he had never been made to feel like one. The locals had accepted him with open arms, and it was as if the old church had done the same.

Today, the warm atmosphere inside the building that Farron had grown so accustomed to, and had begun to take for granted, was absent.

It was late in the afternoon. The sun had already set, and the last of its light lingered in the violet of twilight outside the chapel. The candles along the wall were lit, yet there was still an eerie chill in the air. Farron exhaled. His breath was visible.

He had been settled in Pinewick for so long now, he had almost allowed himself to become comfortable. He had almost let his instincts and intuition take a backseat.

Almost.

But Farron Heights was  _ not  _ an ordinary civilian, and he had years of experience dealing with situations just like this and  _ worse.  _ Which meant he would _not_ turn around and leave back the way he had came, despite the hairs on his neck standing on end and all of the blood in his veins turning to ice. Instead, he stepped forward, his boots creaking against the floorboards like a warning as he ventured inside.

The creaking was ominous today.

As he made his way into the nave, Farron could just barely make out a figure in the dim, flickering light of the candles, slumped over on the floor in front of the altar. He slowed, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of the dagger at his waist, automatically running through the possibilities in his head as he had done so many times before.  _ Human? Creature? Alive? Injured? Dead? Hostile? In need- _

As his mind raced, the figure stirred- alive, and humanoid, judging from its movements. Farron nearly called out to them, to ask if they were in need of assistance, until they lifted their head and two yellow eyes reflected the candlelight back at him. Farron sucked in a breath.  _ Eyeshine- not human.  _

“Ah! If it isn’t Farron! Good ol’ Farron, I was just wondering when I’d see you next.”

Farron frowned at the familiar voice- it was Benjamin, and he sounded conversational enough- yet there was an edge to his voice that the hunter had never heard before. After a moment of hesitant deliberation, the hand resting on his dagger fell to his side.

“What are you doing?” He responded evenly, walking forward between the rows of pews, his eyes never leaving the demon hunched over on the wooden floor. Benjamin had never been hostile with him before- had never really been hostile with anyone, from what Farron had seen- but he decided to err on the side of caution, regardless.

“Oh, you know,” Benjamin responded noncommittally, sitting up straighter and waving a hand in the air. His movements were jerky, disjointed. “Just- doing some thinking!”

“Thinking,” Farron deadpanned, stopping what he surmised was a safe distance from the other. Benjamin tended to be an open book, more often than not- but it seemed that today was one of the rare “not” instances, and it set Farron even further on edge. The expression the demon was wearing was unreadable, the smile that stretched across his features brittle and his yellow eyes just a bit wider than usual.  _ Unhinged,  _ Farron decided, was how Benjamin’s voice sounded.

“Yeah!” What Farron assumed was supposed to be an attempt at a cheerful chirp came out more akin to a croak. “I’ve been thinking a lot, you know? Most of it about,” Benjamin’s voice dropped, and so did Farron’s stomach, “ **_You_ ** .”

If he hadn’t been sure when he walked in and noticed the demon on the floor, there was no doubt in his mind now. There was something different about Benjamin- this did not seem to be the same demon he had gotten to know over the past few months.  


Perhaps it had been too optimistic of Farron to think he could do what he had done without facing a confrontation. It had been foolish to come here, for sure, yet the sliver of guilt he still harbored refused to allow him to simply skip town without a word.  He wasn’t sure what he had expected, though- Benjamin had been more than accommodating throughout his visit, even when Farron’s behavior would have justified  _ at least  _ a swift knock to the teeth. In the face of Farron’s numerous suspicions and accusations, Benjamin had never once wavered, never seemed bothered by Farron’s mistrust and seemed to take a shine to him regardless.

It seemed, however, that even Benjamin’s bafflingly vast goodwill had a limit. Farron was beginning to suspect he had reached it.  


He swallowed his guilt, reminded himself that the creature before him was an unholy abomination and did not belong here, was still tricking and making victims out of the innocent townspeople who did not know any better. Benjamin wasn’t human- he was  _ dangerous. _

_And he’s_ ** _mad_** **_at you_** _,_ his own mind supplied. _  
_

Farron had faced countless beasts- monsters, demons, angry spirits- and yet, none of them had ever chilled him to the core the way Benjamin’s unreadable, glowing stare did. It sat strikingly out of place on a visage that was usually so open and honest, and the contrast was far more unsettling than the gaping maw of a werewolf or the rattling cry of a _Strigoi_.  


Benjamin rose to his feet- slowly, deliberately, the oversized cassock he wore swaying around his lithe frame. He was no longer smiling, but seemed to be regarding Farron as one would regard a mosquito after being bitten, his eyes cold and shrewd.  _ Contempt _ , an emotion that Farron had previously considered Benjamin to be too naive to be capable of.

“You know, Farron,” he spoke, making a show of casually dusting himself off, “I liked you. I really did. I always liked you.”

The past tense did not escape Farron’s notice, and his hand was back at his dagger in an instant. He should get it over with, strike the demon down while he still had the chance, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I know what you think of me! I always knew,” Benjamin’s cold demeanor wavered, and his eyes flickered downwards, his fists clenching at his sides, “And I knew I couldn’t change your mind! I thought that, if I showed you…” he trailed off and seemed to weigh his words. “I could have died… and you knew that. That’s what you wanted.  You _ wanted  _ me to die, right? ”

Farron set his jaw. He didn’t respond. There was no reason to ask for forgiveness, not when he was simply doing what was right. He had to believe that. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Benjamin didn’t seem to appreciate his silence. A single, broken laugh of disbelief forced itself past his lips.

It was becoming more and more apparent that Benjamin wasn’t just angry- he was  _ hurt.  _ The guilt in the hunter's chest grew heavier, sinking down into his stomach like an anchor and rooting him to the spot, where he could do nothing but watch as all of the slights, dismissals, and hurtful words that Farron had inflicted upon the faux priest seemed to culminate and stare back at him.

Benjamin’s shaky composure was cracking, and Farron could only watch as smoky black tendrils curled around the demon’s limbs and up his neck from under the collar of his vestments, staining his skin like ink. Benjamin’s hands were trembling, and so was the chapel around them, the candles’ flames growing and flickering wildly.

“Remind me again, Farron, because I seem to have forgotten,” Benjamin’s voice echoed unnaturally throughout the church, and Farron was finally beginning to realize the full weight of what he had done.

“Between the two of us- which one is the demon?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a mess because sometimes you lose steam and have to just get the words out, you know, but oh well. It be like that sometimes.


End file.
